


The Wrote & The Writ

by jiwrites



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiwrites/pseuds/jiwrites
Summary: A love story is never without it's twist and turns and odd hues of colour. Especially, when it happens between bookshelves, art exhibits, fish tanks, cafe tables, puzzle boards and vendor tents.
Kudos: 1





	The Wrote & The Writ

**Hongjoong**

"But it's easier for you. You just ask people out. You don't get nervous." I hear the familiar voice of one of the regulars that often comes in with her friend, which is why she's being particularly loud this afternoon. Her name is Serenity and I would be lying if I said I didn't like her in the slightest way. She's currently laughing as the other girl, Cordelia, I think is her name, she seems to have many, rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

"Yes, I do! Look, you've seen me nervous. I can't look them in the eyes and most often will close them, laugh just a bit too loudly and get very fidgety with my hands. In conclusion, I look like that baby bird we rescued a few months ago...except that it chirped…"

Serenity laughs, a pretty laugh, then bites her lip, "Poor Captain Nelson."

"Rest in peace, little dude," Maybe-Cordelia grabs a napkin and crafts a makeshift bowl, pouring a few drops of her smoothie into it.

"Did you just pour one out for the bird?" Serenity blinks, trying not to laugh.

"Well, technically yes and technically no," her friend starts and I can see Serenity's eyes roll back. This happens often. Maybe-Cordelia goes off on a tangent no matter the subject and never fails to completely derail a conversation between the two. I have yet to see if they ever find their way back because they always come in a half hour before my shift ends and I can never stay longer.

This is one of those times and I frown as Mingi, one of the other baristas comes in and takes my place behind the counter. He'll just work and not listen to the profound exchanges taking place just a few feet away. They always sit at the table in the corner, tucked away enough that they aren't in the way, but tilted ever so slightly so they can both see out the window. There's a framed painting of a few asymmetrical, yellow stars on a blue gradient background, positioned just so that the stars seem to be rising from their heads.

"Busy?" Mingi asks, interrupting me from my thoughts of stars and girls. I must have looked lost because he asks me again, "Has it been busy?"

"Oh. No," I shake my head, "Rush is pretty much over." Mingi nods and I grab my bag from behind the counter, put on my coat and give a wave, to which I receive one back, as I grab my own drink and leave, a little more reluctant today than others. If only because of the snippet I catch as I step out of the doors.

"Okay, but Romans also used sarcophagi, so to say that the two cultures are unrelated is just baffling to me. I mean granted they did overthrow the Greeks for control of it and that's probably how they came to know of such traditions, but really it's completely unfounded." Maybe-Cordelia babbles.

Serenity smiles at her friend, amused and a little confused, "I'm sorry. Who is arguing with you?"

Maybe-Cordelia gawks at her, "Uhm, the world, duh! I mean scholars, professors, the History Channel, my mom-"

"Did you just say the whole of the History channel is arguing with you?" Serenity snorts. 

"They're just after me." Maybe-Cordelia says like it's as obvious as the blue colours in her hair.

"Oh. Right. Right. Continue," she nods, sipping her drink.

It should concern me, I think, that I never truly know if Maybe-Cordelia is joking or not, but I never dwell on it too long. I admire Serenity for sticking with her friend, especially during those conversations. Sometimes she, too, starts in on something, but it's mostly anecdotes she shares on the subjects, not facts and statistics, so it's helped me learn more about her.

I already knew this much when we met; she had short brown hair that framed her face well, quite a few ear piercings, a nose ring and eyes that I couldn't quite place the colour of. But after a month or so, here is what I know and why.

**Kim Hongjoong's Serenity File**

**_It's not stalking, it's data collection on an interesting person, San._ **

  * Her dad died when she was little - a few bad jokes made by Maybe-Cordelia
  * She has an undercut - she always talks about how much it bugs her when it gets longer
  * She has some questionable tattoos - M.C. is always on about the 'atrocious' one on her knee
  * She draws - I have physically seen her sketch some really good works on napkins which M.C. always shoves haphazardly into whatever book she is carrying
  * She has a dog named Blue, or some spelling variant of the word - apparently, he likes to jump through the window of Cor's car when she comes home
  * She might be bi-sexual - I have heard her express positive things about women in the cafe, usually to M.C. who is usually already staring
  * They are NOT dating - M.C. seems to joke about it often that she is Serenity's stand-in boyfriend until one of them find someone
  * She has a love of music - she always has headphones at the ready, which I'm not sure why, as M.C. will never shut up long enough to listen to a whole song, but she always seems to be showing her music
  * She loves wolves - she wears a lot of clothes and some jewelry with wolves on them
  * She knows a bit of Korean - I heard her try to practice on M.C., who just yelled back "gak" every fifteen seconds and then mumbled something that may have been in Italian



And the latest entry

  * She gets nervous when she likes someone- she argued with M.C. about this because M.C. is good with telling people more often than not



Of course, I have one of these for M.C., but never bothered to write it down, because she simply just doesn't interest me as much. Though, I do have a copy in my head with things like; enjoys marine life, hates coffee, owns too many books, adores Serenity, knows one or two different languages and also has a dog named Ruckus. See? Not as interesting. But, I must admit, I don't always listen as intently as I do when the story shifts to Serenity.

I know this all sounds a little creepy, but it's not like I'll ever bring it up or talk to her about it. It's just like studying a historical figure, except that she's alive and has no idea she's affected me in such a way. Okay, okay, so it's creepy, but whatever.

I replay the conversation from way before in my head as I walk to the bookstore my best friend, San, works at. It's a quaint little shop that has old hardwood floors, narrow spaces filled to the brim with books on both stories and even has a resident dog. All in all, it's a fire hazard, but San calls it home. Literally. He lives in a room upstairs that stays locked during store hours with a sign that reads 'Employees Only'. Since only about three other people work there, I wonder what people think it is. A break room? Maybe.

Anyway, he lives up there after he inherited it from his great grandmother, who loved books and collected them for most of her life. San loved his great grandmother, he told me, because she taught him how to appreciate books. They weren't just pieces of writing for someone to make money off of, unless they were those cheesy Harlequin romance novels. They were someone's thoughts and experiences compiled into a story told through someone else. They were meant to teach you something, every one of them, no matter how short they were.

His favourites are poetry books. He keeps a collection of them in his bedside table of the classics; Wilde, Angelou, Cummings, Dickinson, Poe, Hughes, Silverstein, Whitman and Plath. They're not complete works but selections of their best and most famous works, all tucked neatly away among his extra charger, condoms, gum and a bunch of mismatched pens. San was also a curious person to me when we met, but I have long since grown accustomed to his clinginess and high-pitched whines at random.

Enough about him for now, I'm supposed to be thinking about this conversation. It was on having crushes and apparently M.C. usually never had a problem telling people how she felt, but Serenity did. I wondered whom she liked. What kind of person they were. Did they like art? Did they like music? Did they have bad tattoos?

I mean I do, of course, but that doesn't necessarily matter, since I don't actually know her. I just hope that whenever she likes is good to her and shares her interests. Maybe if I met them, I could lend them my notes...or would that be too creepy? Yeah, probably too creepy. Regardless, I just want them to know her because she seems like someone who people can really like. I want to know her better, too, but like Serenity, I'm too chickenshit to talk to her.

I sigh and turn the corner onto the street that A Dusty Bookshelf sits on, large, proud and pale yellow with white borders. The sign is a large picture of a bookshelf with aged books that sits over the front door. The bookshelf has cursive written in what is supposed to look like dust, reading A Dusty Bookshelf. The sign hasn't changed much since it opened and San refuses to change a single thing.

I find it endearing, honestly, how quickly he took to the bookstore and keeping the image of his great grandmother alive. His dad managed it before for a few years while San was still in highschool, but as soon as he graduated, he moved in and took over. I even had a job there when I wasn't working at the cafe or in my classes and today was one of those days. I walk up the path and the two steps then enter, ringing the small bell over the door. I take off my coat and hang it on the rack by the door, then head over to the counter which is up and to the right of the door. San stands behind it, reading over one of the newest releases that came in, repeating lines silently to himself, a habit he had ever since he fully learned English.

I smile and stand next to him, looking over at the pages, some shorter than others, "Lang Leav?" I ask as I peek at the cover.

San bats my hand away, "Yes. Sea of Strangers. I haven't time until now to read it. Just one second…" he finishes his page and bookmarks it, setting it aside, "How was work?" He asks, taking my bag and handing me an apron.

I tie it on around my waist and shrug, "The usual. I got another note for my file."

San groans, as expected, he hates my files. His is more than four inches thick as I've known him since we were little, our families friends. I always liked San even if he did have his quirks and he was the first file I ever made. But back to his disappointment, "Are you serious? That's so creepy!"

"No, it's not. I never stalk. I overhear things. That's all." I counter, pouting a bit.

"And then you write them down! You don't find that even the least bit creepy?" He shakes his head, sighing, "What is it today?"

"Serenity gets nervous when she likes people but M.C. apparently is good with that kind of thing." I smile, fixing my name tag on my chest

"Your crush would be cute if you didn't write it down," San shrugs, "The new orders for biographies are upstairs. Please don't get stuck on the ladder again." He chuckles, teasing.

I roll my eyes and head upstairs into the biography section and cut the tape on the box, pulling a few out. I liked working here. It always smelled nice and felt safe, plus San kept it at a comfortable temperature so you could wear a sweater and not have to take it off. Not to mention, I smile to myself, stocking some politician's life story, their coffee blew ink!'s out of the water.


End file.
